Waiata 127

1 He waiata; he pikitanga. Na Horomona. Ki te kore e hanga e Ihowa te whare, he maumau mahi ta nga kaihanga; ki te kore e tiakina e Ihowa te pa, maumau mataara noa te kaitiaki.

A song for pilgrims going up to Jerusalem. A psalm of Solomon. If the Lord doesn't build the house, the work of the builders is futile. If the Lord doesn't guard the city, the work of the guards is pointless.

2 He maumau to koutou ara wawe, to koutou noho roa i te po, ta koutou kai i te taro o te mauiui: ko tana moe tena ka homai nei ki tana e aroha ai.

It's useless to get up early in the morning and go to work, and stay late into the evening, worrying about earning enough to eat, when the Lord gives rest to those he loves.

3 Na he taonga pumau na Ihowa nga tamariki, ko nga hua ano o te kopu tana utu.

Children certainly are a gift from the Lord, for a family is a blessing.

4 E rite ana ki nga pere i te ringaringa o te tangata kaha te whanau o te taitamarikitanga.

Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of a young man.

5 Ka hari te tangata kua ki nei tana papa pere i a ratou: e kore ratou e whakama, ina korero ki o ratou hoariri i te kuwaha.

Happy is the father who fills his quiver with them! Such fathers will not be embarrassed when they confront their enemies at the city gate.